kitchen.
"I think that might be Miss Francis' cat. She lives down the street." She went into the kitchen to get a better look with Lane right at her side with the blanket. "It is. That's Fluffy."
"I can think of a better name for it like, cat-from-hell or Chuckie."
"I don't think Fluffy has ever been outside before. He's an inside cat. I bet Miss Francis doesn't even know he got out. I'm going to call her." Frankie ran back to her bedroom and returned with her cell phone.
"It's three o'clock in the morning. Aren't you afraid you'll give her a heart attack by calling this early?"
"I think she'll have the heart attack if she discovers Fluffy missing before we tell her." She punched her neighbor’s number in her cell phone.
"Frankie, about that kiss. Do you think we need to worry about that as a violation of Rule #1?"
"No. It was kind of an emergency situation and our adrenalin was spiking. It meant nothing to either of us." It was such a lie she almost choked getting it out.
The next day they sat in the sheriff's office at his conference table. They had briefed him on what they'd discovered about Dr. Caine. Tim had been staring at Lane and finally asked, "What in the hell happened to your face?"
When Lane hesitated, Frankie jumped in. "It's my fault, Uncle Tim. Near the front yard, I'm making a combination rock and flower garden. I'm not finished and I left a couple of large rocks out and last night Lane fell over them into my bushes." She glanced at Lane who wore a grateful grin.
"Well, I hope your face heals before you meet with the doctor. I have your identities," said Tim. He shoved two envelopes across the table; one to Lane, the other to Frankie. "In these envelopes are fake driver's licenses, social security cards, and a couple of credit cards. Your new names are Lane and Frankie Henderson. You're a married couple who just moved to Bloomington from Chicago. You've got money, but you don't have what you both want and that's a baby."
"What kind of work are we in?" asked Lane.
"Lane, you're a successful investor who buys and sells foreclosed properties. You moved to Bloomington because your wife, Frankie, is an I.U. grad who loves the area. You two can live anywhere you want because most of your business is done over the Internet."
"Frankie, you are a housewife who participates in a variety of charities. This is to appeal to the social side of Dr. Caine. Sometimes he holds charity events in his home. It's your job to get you and Lane invited to them." Tim pulled a thick manila envelope out of the stack of papers in front of him.
"Inside the envelope is a set of car keys to a new black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows and a red Mazda Miata convertible courtesy of a drug dealer raid last month. You'll also find a pair of wedding rings. Frankie, the diamond in yours is real. It’s borrowed from a local jeweler so please don’t lose it." Tim smiled at her and continued.
"I've saved the best for last. My best friend in high school, Sam Webster, is selling his home in Bloomington. He and his wife, Bonnie, have already moved to Atlanta, where he got transferred two months ago. I had dinner with Sam and Bonnie last weekend and told them about this case. They insist we use their house as your base as long as we need it for this op."
"You're kidding?" Frankie looked down at the realtor flyer of the house. It was the most incredible house she'd ever seen. A brick and stone dream home.
"Nope. Sam and Bonnie know how to build a house. Fifteen rooms including a gourmet kitchen, two master suites, wine cellar, theatre room, and huge backyard with a lake at the far end of the property."
"That's amazing. And they're willing to loan it to us?"
"Yes, but there is one small catch. They have a nosy realtor. So tomorrow afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Lane
"I think that might be Miss Francis' cat. She lives down the street." She went into the kitchen to get a better look with Lane right at her side with the blanket. "It is. That's Fluffy."
"I can think of a better name for it like, cat-from-hell or Chuckie."
"I don't think Fluffy has ever been outside before. He's an inside cat. I bet Miss Francis doesn't even know he got out. I'm going to call her." Frankie ran back to her bedroom and returned with her cell phone.
"It's three o'clock in the morning. Aren't you afraid you'll give her a heart attack by calling this early?"
"I think she'll have the heart attack if she discovers Fluffy missing before we tell her." She punched her neighbor’s number in her cell phone.
"Frankie, about that kiss. Do you think we need to worry about that as a violation of Rule #1?"
"No. It was kind of an emergency situation and our adrenalin was spiking. It meant nothing to either of us." It was such a lie she almost choked getting it out.
The next day they sat in the sheriff's office at his conference table. They had briefed him on what they'd discovered about Dr. Caine. Tim had been staring at Lane and finally asked, "What in the hell happened to your face?"
When Lane hesitated, Frankie jumped in. "It's my fault, Uncle Tim. Near the front yard, I'm making a combination rock and flower garden. I'm not finished and I left a couple of large rocks out and last night Lane fell over them into my bushes." She glanced at Lane who wore a grateful grin.
"Well, I hope your face heals before you meet with the doctor. I have your identities," said Tim. He shoved two envelopes across the table; one to Lane, the other to Frankie. "In these envelopes are fake driver's licenses, social security cards, and a couple of credit cards. Your new names are Lane and Frankie Henderson. You're a married couple who just moved to Bloomington from Chicago. You've got money, but you don't have what you both want and that's a baby."
"What kind of work are we in?" asked Lane.
"Lane, you're a successful investor who buys and sells foreclosed properties. You moved to Bloomington because your wife, Frankie, is an I.U. grad who loves the area. You two can live anywhere you want because most of your business is done over the Internet."
"Frankie, you are a housewife who participates in a variety of charities. This is to appeal to the social side of Dr. Caine. Sometimes he holds charity events in his home. It's your job to get you and Lane invited to them." Tim pulled a thick manila envelope out of the stack of papers in front of him.
"Inside the envelope is a set of car keys to a new black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows and a red Mazda Miata convertible courtesy of a drug dealer raid last month. You'll also find a pair of wedding rings. Frankie, the diamond in yours is real. It’s borrowed from a local jeweler so please don’t lose it." Tim smiled at her and continued.
"I've saved the best for last. My best friend in high school, Sam Webster, is selling his home in Bloomington. He and his wife, Bonnie, have already moved to Atlanta, where he got transferred two months ago. I had dinner with Sam and Bonnie last weekend and told them about this case. They insist we use their house as your base as long as we need it for this op."
"You're kidding?" Frankie looked down at the realtor flyer of the house. It was the most incredible house she'd ever seen. A brick and stone dream home.
"Nope. Sam and Bonnie know how to build a house. Fifteen rooms including a gourmet kitchen, two master suites, wine cellar, theatre room, and huge backyard with a lake at the far end of the property."
"That's amazing. And they're willing to loan it to us?"
"Yes, but there is one small catch. They have a nosy realtor. So tomorrow afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Lane
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